


As Though They Never Were

by Dark_Sinestra



Series: DS9: Sub-Prime [30]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bigotry & Prejudice, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Moving In Together, Time Travel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 06:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19997437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Sinestra/pseuds/Dark_Sinestra
Summary: Julian and Garak take further strides to cement their relationship while trying to help Leeta and Rom through a rough patch. As Julian comes to terms with some of his blind spots and friends’ prejudices, he gains a greater understanding of what it takes to be a good partner. However, everything is thrown into doubt when Julian and the rest of the command crew encounter a planet full of their descendents in the Gamma Quadrant and are forced to face dire consequences for their curiosity.





	As Though They Never Were

**Part I**

_Julian  
Garak’s Quarters_

Julian glanced across the table over the top of his PADD at Garak, similarly engaged with one hand holding a PADD and the other curled loosely about a cooling mug of fish juice. The remains of breakfast still lay strewn upon the table with not enough of either dish remaining to clash. He loved when they awoke early enough for a leisurely morning, loved that Garak had a thick spare robe that he could borrow, loved curling his toes deep into the cushioning of his slippers. He caught himself smiling what he imagined to be a very silly smile indeed and set his PADD aside, rested his chin in his palm with his elbow on the table, and stared at Garak openly until he received his desired response. 

“I can hear that look, Julian.” Garak lowered his PADD just enough to meet his gaze. He didn’t lift it again quickly enough to hide his amusement. He sipped from his mug and lowered it with a soft clack.

“I’ve been thinking.” He sat up straighter and folded his arms loosely on the tabletop.

Garak set his PADD aside. “This can’t be good.” His expression was annoyingly bland.

“Now, why would you say that?” He couldn’t yet tell if this was to be a conversation where Garak baited him in earnest or played along because he knew he secretly enjoyed the challenge.

“Because the only time you ever feel the need to announce the obvious, that you’ve been thinking, when we both know that you’re always thinking, is when you’ve been thinking something you’re uncertain I’ll like or go along with.”

Julian didn’t miss the satisfied gleam in his eyes at his pronouncement. He mock pouted. “Must you take all the fun out of it?” he asked, then continued undaunted. “I’ve been thinking that we ought to consider sharing quarters, officially. With space at such a premium on the station—” 

“Station occupancy has been on the decline since the Dominion has been sending steady troop reinforcements through the wormhole. I’ve noticed a drop in business, as well.” Garak tipped his head slightly as though inviting him to contradict him.

“I don’t know that a temporary trend—” 

“That’s presumptuous, isn’t it? To label this as temporary? I suppose if one were to stretch out one’s metric to a suitable length, one might be able to call this temporary on such a scale. The fact is that we don’t know. We don’t even know if this station will be here by this time next year.” He punctuated his point by polishing off the juice.

Julian felt the first bite of true annoyance, no longer so sure Garak was being playfully contrary. “If you don’t want to do it, you should just say so.”

Garak lifted a hand to the v of his robe, eyes widening almost comically. “I thought we were discussing available space on the station,” he said.

“You’re such a bastard,” he said, fighting laughter. “Fine. I would love it if we could move in together. I don’t care if it’s practical or not.”

“You have guaranteed officer’s quarters as long as you have a position here with Starfleet, and I’m not hurting for funds,” Garak said. “Why don’t we simply share both sets of quarters?”

Julian’s brow furrowed. “How is that any different from what we’re doing now?”

He stood to begin clearing off the table. “Right now, we keep a few spare articles of clothing in each others’ drawers, spare toiletries in one another’s refreshers. We’re always asking in one way or another, ‘My place, or yours?’” He set the first dish stack into the recycler and turned to face him. “If both places are ours, with as much or as little as we choose to keep in each, that question no longer has any meaning.

“And...” he stepped around the table to cup his cheek in careless fingers, “during those times when you’re working outrageous shifts or I’m suffering a lengthy migraine, we each have a place to go where we won’t disturb the other or disrupt each other’s sleep. No one has to take the couch.”

Reaching up to clasp his fingers, he pressed a kiss to the tips, grinning up at him and feeling as giddy as someone half his age at the prospect. “You’ve been thinking about this, too,” he said, hardly daring to believe it.

“All without needing to make an announcement.” His return smile was smug.

Slipping from his chair, Julian slid his arms around his waist and drew him in close. He could feel the knots of their robe ties digging into his stomach. “This time I’ll say feel free to gloat. Just don’t get used to it.” He kissed him to the point they both had to make a decision, continue or be late for work. Given that he was still in counseling and being watched by the captain for signs of instability, he allowed his responsible side to win out.

“We can pack tonight,” Garak offered by way of consolation. “Settle in and fight over who gets the top drawers.”

“You’re lucky I like where our fights lead.” He gave him a final squeeze and hurried into the bedroom to dress.

_Garak  
Garak’s Clothiers_

He barely had the doors open when Rom bustled in beaming fit to burst. “Good morning, Garak,” he said with exaggerated cheer, even for him.

“Yes, it is,” he said agreeably, thinking of his conversation with Julian. “I have a feeling you intend to tell me exactly how good it is.”

“Leeta and I are getting married. I asked her, and she said yes! You’re the first person I’ve told.” His eyes nearly disappeared in his grin.

“Congratulations,” he said without having to feign his pleasure at the news. “I can’t think of any two people who deserve each other more.”

Rom’s smile faltered briefly as he shot him a searching look, suspecting some hidden barb and finding none, only to return full beam a moment later. “It means a lot that you think that. Leeta is so incredible. I pinch myself every day just like this,” he pinched himself hard and grimaced, “to be sure I’m not dreaming and all of this is real.”

“You could probably find a way to do that which didn’t involve pain,” Garak suggested, “not that I’m judging. Rom, trust me when I say she is every bit as lucky to have you. You’re a hard worker, intelligent, thoughtful, _loyal._ Never sell yourself short.”

Rom straightened to his full height and tugged lightly at his maintenance overalls top. “When you put it like that, I am all of those things, and I love Leeta with all of my heart.”

Garak continued through the shop, bringing up the lights and checking the displays. “Exactly. When is the wedding?”

“We haven’t set a date yet. I want to talk to Brother and Nog, and I know she has a few people she wants to check with about scheduling. You’ll come? Uh, you and Doctor Bashir?”

“I believe it’s safe to say Julian will be delighted to be there, as will I. Is there anything in particular that the two of you need? I prefer my gifts to be practical.” Satisfied that everything was in order, he stepped behind his counter.

“Uh...” He paused for several seconds, his eyes rolled up in thought. “Nope. That’s probably a better question for Leeta. I’m plenty happy to have a full toolbox and my favorite raktajino mug.”

“I didn’t know you drank raktajinos,” he said, surprised.

“It’s our official shift drink,” Rom said proudly. “Speaking of that, I had better get to work. I wanted to be sure you heard the news from me. Gossip travels so fast.”

“I’m flattered,” he said. “If you need help with anything, do let me know.” Already he envisioned various gown designs for Leeta. He didn’t want to be presumptuous, however. He returned his cheerful wave and indulged himself in looking at patterns and fabrics.

A couple of hours later, Quark arrived, announcing that he was heading to Ferenginar and needed a new jacket. Tailoring it for him took up a large part of the afternoon. He listened to his woes about the voles in the bar, his belief that all of his luck was gone, and his dissatisfaction with his brother’s choice of wife. He maintained his bluff, professional exterior throughout, offering properly sympathetic sounds at the right times and working quickly. Not even Quark could bring him down today. He was determined.

He ushered him out, looking dapper if he said so himself, and took the down time to dust. It was the same never ending battle that no matter how hard the filters chugged along, he found himself fighting every other day. Today it felt less onerous. He thought of his quarters and how few things he had acquired after his fit of destructive rage, then of Julian’s quarters. Their color schemes were very different, yet neither of them had much. Beyond clothing and toiletries, would there be all that much to pack? He saw little sense in moving around the furniture or exchanging one piece for another.

Julian’s voice from the front of the shop startled him. Was it already closing time? It seemed so. He quickly went through the routine and ushered the doctor out ahead of him. “Where shall we start first?” he asked brightly.

“How about your quarters?” Julian proposed. There was something off in his demeanor, a melancholy undertone in his voice that gave Garak pause.

“Did something happen today?” he asked, lowering his voice. He worried more than he let on about how Julian’s work affected him. Despite regularly attending therapy sessions and working hard on everything the counselor told him to do, he still wasn’t the person he had been before his abduction. He still took deaths and illnesses more to heart than was healthy for one in his profession.

Seeming to understand what he must have been thinking, the doctor squared his shoulders a bit and shook his head, quickly offering, “Nothing bad. Nothing like that.” He licked his lips and glanced sideways at Garak, not quite meeting his gaze. “It’s just...well, Leeta came by today. She told me she and Rom are getting married. She didn’t want me to hear it from someone else.”

Garak suspected her reasoning was different from Rom’s in telling him, less joyful sharing and more consideration for Julian’s feelings. “Not something you wanted to hear?” he asked as neutrally as he could manage.

“I...” He started and stopped abruptly. “It’s not that. I mean...of course, I’m happy for them. I want her to be happy. She deserves it.”

“But?” Garak stopped in front of the turbolift to wait. He wanted to be supportive yet found himself fighting disappointment that this was tainting what was supposed to be a good time for them. 

“I don’t know.” He shook his head and frowned. “I truly don’t know. There’s this...heaviness in my chest. It doesn’t make sense. There’s no part of me that wants Leeta or wishes we had stayed together. I can think of no reason I shouldn’t want her to get married.”

He had a suspicion. “What if it had been Doctor Zimmerman? What if she had left with him to work on Jupiter Station?” He stepped onto the turbolift with him but had to wait on the answer to that for a few floors and sectors, until they were once again alone.

Julian’s brow furrowed very slightly. “I... Weirdly enough, that wouldn’t have bothered me as much. Maybe because she’d be gone, so I’d have no reminders?”

Garak shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s Rom.”

“What do you mean?” He stepped back a full step from Garak and folded his arms.

“There. Defensiveness. You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you see him as inferior. It bothers you that she gravitated toward someone you view as less than your equal before the two of you officially broke it off.” It wasn’t just Julian he had seen behaving this way. It was most of the Starfleeters as well as Quark, and it irritated him.

“That’s ridiculous,” Julian scoffed.

“Is it? Then why are you angry right now?” he demanded.

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed that you would think something so awful of me, when it’s plainly not true,” he said.

“Plainly? What’s plain to me is that all of you look at Rom and see only what you want to see, someone who is socially awkward and at times timid because of incessant bullying from his brother, someone who annoys you with the way he speaks and cringes, someone you see as pathetic and laughable, but occasionally useful.” His glare challenged him to deny it.

“Since when are you the champion of anyone you see as weak?” he asked, incredulous.

Garak stepped off the turbolift as soon as it came to a stop. “I never said I see him as weak. Quite the contrary, Doctor. When you lay dying, Rom and Quark were the only reasons I was able to visit you on my terms. I had to coerce Quark to get him to cooperate, but not Rom. He risked electrocution and incarceration to get me safely through the conduits, and he was happy to do it.

“He has consistently stood by my side when I needed help, challenged me when I was poised on the brink of choosing disastrous actions, and selflessly given of his time and skills with my equipment when your good friend the chief finds every excuse to put me at the bottom of the list. Never asking payment. Never asking anything in return beyond my friendship. So he has it, and frankly at times I’m appalled at all of you for your behavior toward him.”

He let himself into his quarters and crossed to the replicator to make a few light crates. He could feel Julian’s eyes on his back. Without looking at him, he couldn’t tell if his silence was sullen or thoughtful. He was too irritated to want to find out, because if it was the former, then they were about to have one very unpleasant fight.

He didn’t look up until Julian took a crate from him and forced the issue by standing in the way. “Why haven’t you told me any of this before?” he asked.

“Because if you only treat him better because of something I’ve said, then it’s meaningless, and he deserves better than that.” He turned to retrieve the next crate. “I like to believe that this was a blind spot for you. It’s something I want you to consider. Don’t take my word for it. Watch your colleagues, and if you can come back from that and still tell me you think I’m wrong, then I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

He was willing to let it go at that point, busying himself with the task of deciding what to keep here and what to take with him. It was bound to be strange at first and perhaps difficult to decide where to sleep or why. Julian’s quarters were larger. He liked that, but he liked his décor more.

Julian also seemed to be making an effort to put the conflict behind them. Within a few minutes, both of them were talking animatedly about making the changes and what made sense to them. They had a few crates filled and were about to head for Julian’s place when the door chime took both of them by surprise. “Who is it?” they asked in tandem. Garak beamed approval.

“It’s Rom.”

Julian shot him a questioning look and gestured toward the bedroom. He shook his head and motioned for him to stay. “Enter,” he said.

The door slid open. Rom froze in place at the sight of Julian. “This is a bad time,” he said. “I can come back later.”

“No,” Julian said before Garak could. “It’s not a bad time at all. Please, come in. Garak and I were just...” He shot Garak a quick glance and pressed on, “gathering up some things to make our moving in together official.”

A pained look contorted the Ferengi’s features. “Oh. I’m...very happy for you.” It came out loud and forced. Garak inwardly sighed. He had to be one of the worst liars in the entire quadrant.

“Please, come in,” Garak said, beckoning. “This morning you were under the Blind Moon in love. Now you look like you can hardly hold your head up. What happened?”

He crossed the threshold hesitantly, all the while looking at Julian uncertainly.

“I can leave,” Julian said. “I really don’t mind.”

“It’s just that it’s about Chief O’Brien and Dax,” Rom said. “I know how close you are.”

Garak quietly stepped toward the replicator for Rom’s snail juice, knowing it always cleared his head. Julian said, “I promise you that whatever you have to say, I’ll keep in confidence. You’re not going to offend me or make trouble for yourself speaking openly. If you’re worried about whether I know about you and Leeta, she came to me this morning to tell me herself.”

“No, I know. She told me she was going to the Infirmary when I was leaving for Garak’s.” He accepted the snail juice with a grateful look and took a deep swallow. “If you’re sure.” This time he looked at Garak.

“I’ll listen whether Julian is here or not,” he said. “You know that. It’s up to you.”

He crabbed sideways toward the sofa and perched on a cushion edge. Garak and Julian both approached, Julian taking the chair, Garak taking the other side of the sofa. “We’re listening,” Julian said encouragingly.

Garak watched Julian without making it obvious. He was gratified to see that it didn’t seem to be an act. Maybe what he said was sinking in. If he was being open minded about it, that was all he could reasonably expect.

“They said I was the least Ferengi-like Ferengi they had ever met.” Rom’s voice held a bitter edge. He stared into his snail juice as though something personally offensive lay at the bottom of the glass.

“That’s hardly an insult,” Julian blurted.

Garak glared at him sharply. “That was incredibly rude of them,” he said, making it clear that he was including Julian in the statement. “What prompted it?”

“I’ve been studying Bajoran customs and history. I want Leeta to know her heritage matters to me.” His grip on his glass looked so tight, Garak worried he might hurt himself. “But then I started thinking. She hasn’t been studying my culture. She gets angry whenever I quote the Rules of Acquisition. So...so maybe I need to be a little more Ferengi and look out for myself, too.”

“That’s not unreasonable,” Garak said, still glaring at Julian.

“Really?” Rom lifted his head with a searching look.

“Really. If a relationship isn’t give and take, then it isn’t much of a relationship. Your problem is that you’re living in an environment where the dominant cultural narrative goes against your grain. I don’t need to tell you it’s a problem I understand intimately.”

Julian frowned and looked away. Rom only perked up all the more. “Thank you, Garak. I knew you’d understand.” He stood up and set his glass into the recycler. “I’ve got work to do, a legal document to draft. Would you be willing to look it over when I’m done? I’m not very good with stuff like that.”

“Of course.” He stood as well and walked him to the door. He turned back to Julian with narrowed eyes once the door shut.

“Is that truly how you feel?” he asked. “That our dominant cultural narrative goes against your grain?”

“Doesn’t it? Have I once insisted on courting you in the Cardassian way? Have I pushed anything of my culture, other than our literature exchange, onto you or any of your friends? Do you even know what courtship on my homeworld entails?” He resisted the physical impulse to cross his hands before him. He refused to be backed into a defensive position about this. It was as much to make his point about Rom as it was about the two of them.

“Your people don’t make it easy. Even before the arrival of the Dominion, Cardassia was notoriously closed lipped about their customs. You’ve gone out of your way over the years to muddy the waters. To this day I never know if you’re being straight with me or fabricating something for your own amusement.” Julian also refused to adopt a defensive posture. There was pure challenge in his gaze.

“Ferenginar, on the other hand, in some aspects is far more open,” he countered. “It is ridiculously easy to get your hands on the Rules of Acquisition. The Ferengi are outspoken with their customs and culture. You simply find their values distasteful. How would you react if Gul Dukat told you that you were the least human of the humans he had ever met and expected you to take it as a compliment? If Ghemor had said that he was glad you weren’t very human as you cared for him?”

Julian opened his mouth only to shut it again. His posture deflated very slightly. He lifted a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. “I see your point. Do you want me to court you in the Cardassian way?”

He made an impatient noise. “This isn’t about you courting me. The evidence of what I was talking about walked right through my door, and your first reaction was to dismiss his concerns in defense of your colleagues. You wondered why you felt bad about the wedding. Now you know. The only question remaining is what do you intend to do about it?”

_Julian  
Holosuite Two_

He hunkered down lower and winced as plaster showered down over him and Miles from the sharp retort of a musket ball. The men huddled around them stank of sweat and desperation but seemed determined to see things through to the bitter end, an end that seemed eminent. “Remind me again why we like this program?” Julian raised his voice to be heard over the steady salvo of musket fire and artillery.

“It’s about heroism in the face of sure defeat,” Miles said, grinning and nudging him. “Y’ can’t tell me it isn’t exhilaratin’.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He drew his coonskin cap down lower over his brow and braced himself to be overrun. This was the hardest part, when all of them had to fall back and run pellmell in the bitter cold toward the church. Sometimes they made it, sometimes they didn’t. Tonight, he felt himself pelted in the back and fell forward. Everything went white. The setting disappeared, leaving them in the unadorned suite lying face down on the floor.

“D’ you want to pick up in the church?” Miles asked, rolling to his side and pushing up to a seat. “We still have about half an hour before the time runs out.”

“No, I’m good.” He pushed up to hands and knees and pivoted on his hip to sit with his arms loosely around his knees. “Do you think I’m culturally insensitive?” he asked.

The chief laughed until he realized he was serious. “You’re askin’ me? I don’t think I’ll be winning any awards any time soon on that topic. Why?”

“It’s something Garak said.” He took the hat off and squeezed it between his fingers. He liked handling it more than wearing it.

“Garak decided to take you to task about being culturally insensitive.” Miles snorted a rude sound. “Julian, are y’ serious? Since when has any Cardassian been a paragon of cultural sensitivity? Isn’t he always insultin’ you over your taste in books?”

“Rom is far more comfortable talking to him than talking to me.”

“Rom is—Look, Julian. They’re friends. It’s not weird that a friend would be more comfortable talking to his friend than you. That has nothin’ to do with cultural sensitivity.” He climbed to his feet and offered a hand down to help him up.

He accepted the pull up. “Doesn’t it, though? Aren’t we always riding Quark about his decisions for the bar?”

Miles activated the door. It felt odd descending into the quiet, unlit bar with no one but Frool waiting for them at the bottom. It was an unwelcome callback to his disaster in the holosuite with Garak. It would stay that way until the vole infestation was dealt with. Fortunately, they hadn’t fouled up the holosuites, or their evening would have been sorely lacking in entertainment.

“You’d rather we had supported the arms dealing?” he asked, one brow quirked. “Or maybe you liked it better when he was working Leeta and Rom half to death before the strike?”

“No, of course not.” He frowned, feeling impatient. “But don’t you think we’re a little quick to judge sometimes? Did you know that you and Dax really hurt Rom’s feelings the other day?”

Miles frowned. They exited the bar onto the largely deserted Promenade. It felt like a holosuite ghost town seeing things so quiet when they would usually be bustling at this time. “Don’t remind me,” he said sourly. “He’s gotten it into his head to draw up this contract with Leeta. He’s been workin’ on it in all his spare time as far as I can tell. Wish I’d never said a word to him about anything now.”

“What sort of contract?” He felt a chill of foreboding. It had to be the legal document he mentioned to Garak.

“Some sort of waiver of property. He won’t go into detail about it with me, said he wants it polished before he tells anyone more about it. I probably shouldn’t be talkin’ about it to you.” He shrugged. “I know you can keep your mouth shut. You’re not like Dax.”

Wasn’t he? He was gossiping right now. He changed the subject, not liking that thought at all. “When will the bar be open again?”

Miles’ expression eased. “Should be back to business by tomorrow. We’re doin’ a final sweep later tonight to be sure we got them all. Too bad Quark’s still on Ferenginar. He’ll miss out. You comin’ back to my place for a drink?”

“Not tonight. Let’s grab a pint tomorrow and hit the darts.” He felt too much like he was intruding with Kirayoshi sleeping in the next room. They were no longer free to sing or be as loud as they pleased. It wasn’t the same, and with Garak waiting for him in his—no, their—quarters, he didn’t like to stay out too late.

“Sounds good. See you then.” He gave a casual salute and continued down the corridor.

Garak had asked him to observe his colleagues. He had to admit that he didn’t like what he was seeing. He had always known that Miles had issues with Cardassians. He knew it was from his time as a soldier and that it was likely something he would never fully change, even if he decided he wanted to try. However, he was no better about Ferengi. The fact that he immediately jumped to some of the worst of Quark’s infractions to justify his attitude spoke volumes.

Dax was more open minded about Ferengi. Her friendship with Quark and her regular Tongo matches said as much. Still, she had been one of the ones to upset Rom, and she had made it very clear where she stood when it came to his relationship with Garak. She seemed unwilling to see where Garak’s cultural values might have informed his actions in the Gamma Quadrant or in some of his earlier behavior in the beginnings of their relationship.

He was still deep in thought when he let himself in to find Garak running through Kotra exercises at the dining table. “Would you like to play?” he offered.

Garak shook his head. “I was just winding down toward bed. Our matches are too stimulating to start this late.”

He smiled. That was as close to a compliment as he imagined he’d get from him about his playing. Now that he no longer held back, their games were much closer. He believed that in time, he’d beat him if he could get out of his own way and stop over-thinking. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“You can always ask.” He shifted to face him, expression mildly curious.

“Could you provide me access to information about Cardassian courtship? I assure you it’s strictly personal interest. I wouldn’t dream of sharing anything with Starfleet.” 

Garak’s appraising look lasted quite a bit longer than he thought the question warranted. He withstood it with as casual of a posture as he could manage under the scrutiny. “It isn’t safe for me to access any of the databases on Prime anymore. I could write something up for you, if you feel that you can trust me not to fabricate.” There was something tart in that last sentence. Julian was paying for what he’d said during their argument.

“You were right. You were right about Miles and Dax, and you were right about me. I’m not proud of it. I’d like to correct it, if you’ll let me.” He didn’t yet know how he could smooth things over with Rom. It was now clear they hadn’t made as much progress as he’d initially thought. He hoped that in time, he could get Garak’s help with that. He believed he’d need to earn his trust in the issue first. He was protective of his friends.

“Come to bed, dear.” Garak stood and preceded him into the bedroom. As forgiveness went, it was as to the point as he could expect from his lover.

_Garak  
Private Quarters_

With Julian working late on a Klingon’s injury, Garak decided to work on his essay on Cardassian courtship. He still entertained private doubts that it was a waste of time. So much of it wouldn’t apply to him or Julian. The very idea of Julian presenting Mila with a vetted list of his ancestors dating back a thousand years was beyond ludicrous, not to mention that she’d find it insulting and preposterous coming from a human male.

He didn’t like to think about marriage at all. Anything they determined to do would never be recognized on Prime as legitimate. He hated that any part of him cared about that. It was a moot point with the Dominion there. Who knew how long that would last or if he’d be safe in going home in his lifetime? And if he was? He could hardly expect Julian to settle on his planet. Why had he agreed to do this? _What_ were they doing here?

He continued doggedly despite his misgiving. He had been the one to bring it all up in the first place. He couldn’t take Julian to task for something and then make it impossible for him to rectify it. It might have been an eminently _Cardassian_ thing to do, but it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t healthy for a mixed species relationship. Divorced from the context of his society, some of the customs sounded silly or hopelessly outdated. Virtually no one intermingled their packs of riding hounds anymore, because so few still owned the great beasts. He imagined Julian trying to lope one down the Promenade and rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness.

His comm spared him further chagrin, although the source of the hail was one he never expected to contact him unprompted. “Chief?” He didn’t bother to disguise his confusion.

“I need your help with somethin’,” O’Brien said without preamble. “More like Rom needs your help. I stuck my foot in it, an’ I’m not sure he’s going to listen to me. I don’t want to be responsible for ruinin’ his life over some stupid, off the cuff comment. Will you meet me outside his quarters?”

“I’m on my way.” He had already heard from Leeta how her decision to marry Rom had been the biggest mistake of her life. He had held her while she cried but made no headway with her when it came to trying to get her to see things from Rom’s point of view. He wasn’t sure it was in Rom’s best interest to try to get him to see Leeta’s perspective. He’d know more when he got there.

O’Brien paced in front of the Ferengi’s door and looked relieved when he came into view. He slowed down instinctively and forced him to wait. The chief hurried to meet him halfway. “He’s so dead set on this waiver. It’s all he talked about at work today. I’m about to go in there again an’ try one more time to get him to see reason. If I can’t, I figured maybe you can. Julian says the two of you are close.”

“I suppose no one has seen fit to try to get Leeta to compromise?” he asked.

“You can’t be serious! You think she should sign over any right to own property jus’ because she’s marrying a Ferengi?” The chief’s face reddened in outrage.

“I think she should consider why Rom feels threatened,” Garak countered. “And so should you. You know his background. You know about his first marriage and what happened to him. You can’t see how her digging in her heels might feel like history trying to repeat itself?”

O’Brien blinked in surprise. “I didn’...OK. I didn’t think of it that way. But what about her background? She doesn’t ever talk about it. What does that tell you?”

“It tells me that both of them are treading on minefields, and that maybe all of us ought to think before we speak when it comes to other people’s relationships.” He favored him with a flat look. “What if this is for the best? Maybe they ought to call it off before someone gets irrevocably hurt.”

“It’s too late for that. He has been bawling his way through every shift, an’ Nerys says Leeta’s doing the same thing. I...” O’Brien sighed heavily. “I created this problem. Th’ least I can do is try to patch it up.”

Garak shook his head. “You didn’t create this problem. Yes, you said something stupid and insensitive, but if the issue wasn’t already boiling under the surface, there would have been nothing to come to a head. Have you ever seen any inter-species relationship that didn’t have its share of serious issues?”

O’Brien barely suppressed his bristle at the _stupid and insensitive_ comment before snorting softly. “May as well drop that ‘inter-species’ bit. I’ve never seen a serious one that didn’t at some point or other, period. OK. I’m goin’ in, and if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to follow up. He’s a stubborn little bastard. Can’t hurt him to hear sense from two heads.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He gestured him ahead and waited his turn, trying to sort what he’d say to him. He didn’t like the idea of him capitulating entirely. It would set a bad precedent for the relationship on the whole. He knew exactly how stubborn Leeta could be, too. 

The chief emerged with a hopeful look and nod. Garak waited a few minutes so that he wouldn’t give the impression of double teaming then rang the chime. Rom called him in. He saw him seated before a modest pile of latinum. “My life savings,” Rom said. “Pretty pathetic for a Ferengi.”

Garak closed the distance and sat beside him. “Worth losing a marriage prospect?” he asked carefully.

Rom shook his head. “No. I’m going to give it away to the Bajoran War Orphans Fund.”

Smiling faintly, he nodded his approval. “Smart,” he said. He could instantly see the thought process behind the decision, and he knew that together the two of them wouldn’t be completely destitute from this move.

“Brother won’t think so. I doubt anyone else will, either. We’ll have nothing except whatever Leeta has saved. That won’t be much given what Brother pays.”

“If she chooses you, then you know it’s not about money,” Garak said. “You’re looking out for yourself, which was what I came to advise you to do. Not that you asked for my advice or needed it. Your solution is more creative than mine would have been.”

“It’s the same advice you always give me,” Rom said. “Things didn’t start getting better for me until I started taking it. I hope you do the same when it comes to the doctor. Don’t let the, uh...collective culture thing make you go against your grain.”

Garak’s smile widened. “Thank you. I’m not.” Perhaps he’d get to make that wedding dress after all.

**Part II**

_Julian_  
USS Defiant  
Gamma Quadrant 

Julian sat in the cramped sickbay compiling his survey notes into something resembling a report. He’d finish refining it once they were back at the station. This particular sojourn into the Gamma Quadrant had been mostly uneventful. He never thought he’d be able to say he was grateful for a chance at boredom. Any foray into Dominion territory that didn’t involve conflict with the Jem’Hadar was increasingly rare.

The hiss of the doors opening had him turning toward the entrance. Odo drew up short, uncertainty clouding his gaze. Julian beckoned him further in and turned his chair to face him and give him his full attention. “What is it?” he asked.

After another second or two of hesitation, Odo stepped into the room and let the doors shut behind him. “I was just...curious if you knew that Major Kira and Shakaar had broken off their relationship.”

Julian’s brows arched in surprise. “No. This is the first I’m hearing of it.” He felt a little put out that somehow Odo heard it before he did. Odo was usually the last informed when it came to station gossip that didn’t tread into security territory. “When did it happen?”

“Apparently, the last time she visited Bajor.” Odo stepped to the side of the door to avoid blocking the entrance and folded his arms. To Julian’s eyes the gesture looked self-protective. “I keep thinking about the things you told me when I was considering approaching Arissa.”

He nodded encouragingly, unsure of whether Odo was seeking more advice or simply wanting to talk things out with a sympathetic ear. When the silence dragged, he decided it was the former. “Well,” he said, “I’m assuming this is about Nerys?”

At Odo’s startled look, he chuckled. “I’m an augment. I don’t miss much, remember? Besides, you made it obvious enough with that segue that Morn would have picked up on it drunk.”

“It’s...taking some getting used to,” Odo replied grudgingly. “You were too good at pretending.”

Julian’s half smile didn’t reflect the unease the remark sparked. He decided it was time to change the subject and get them back on track. “There are a few things to consider that weren’t applicable in the situation with Arissa.”

It was all Odo needed to continue. “Exactly. We work together. We have to see each other every day. If she is interested, we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t impact how we do our jobs. If she isn’t interested, and I say something...” He let it trail.

“Then it has the potential to be awkward for a while,” Julian said. “Do you want my advice?”

“Please,” he said almost too eagerly.

“Give her some time to move past her relationship with Shakaar. If you say something immediately, it could come across as insensitive. Worse, if she still has unresolved feelings, things might get off to what seems like a good start only to sour down the line.” He held up a hand. “Not that I’m the most qualified to give relationship advice. Most of mine end badly, as you’ve seen.”

“That wasn’t entirely your fault,” Odo reminded him. “Things seem to be going much better for you now.”

“I don’t know that I’d say much better, but better, yes. They are.” He knew not to share too much. Garak was private, and Odo loved ferreting out small details of his life, much the same way Garak seemed to enjoy poking at Odo. “Any relationship is a challenge. It’s always more so when you’re not the same species. Just try to keep that in mind if you decide to pursue this, and know I’m always willing to listen.”

“I appreciate that, Julian.” Odo’s look of gratitude was intense enough to make him uncomfortable.

He smiled lightly. “Grateful enough to help me inventory the medicine cabinet?”

“Hmph. Nice try. I have my own work to do. I’d best get back to it.”

He held his smile for a bit after his departure, shook his head, and returned to his notes. His nurse, a competent recent Starfleet graduate named Schmidt, came on shift to join him after a while. Later, they were about three quarters through with the inventory when the announcement came that the Defiant was taking a detour for a quick planetary survey. He tried not to get too excited. Most of these ended with a few bacterial or fungal samples at best, things that interested Dax more than they did him. 

A few minutes later deep shudders through the deck plating sent them stumbling to catch their balance against a biobed. Electricity arced across several consoles. Just as he lifted his hand to his comm badge to ask what was happening, Sisko’s voice came through the sickbay speakers, summoning him to the bridge to check on Major Kira.

Snagging his med kit, he told Schmidt to initiate an equipment scan for damage then hurried through the narrow corridors and took the lift. He felt some relief when he reached the bridge and saw Kira seated, awake, and alert. Everyone was talking at once, and Captain Sisko, Dax, Miles, and Worf hurried past him. Kira filled him in when he stepped over to scan her. “There’s a human settlement on the planet.” She pointed to the view screen.

_A human settlement?_ His mind reeled from the implications. How?? Did the Dominion know?

Her next words threw some water on his surprise and excitement. “We’re stuck here for a few days. The chief says inertial dampers are offline, and our gyromagnetic stabilizers have depolarized. I’m not sure we can even get communication out of the energy barrier surrounding the planet.”

Garak wasn’t going to be happy about that. He knew he worried every time he left on a mission through the wormhole. What he saw on his medical tricorder reading drove every other thought far to the back of his mind. He met Kira’s gaze and saw she read his dismay accurately. “Your neural pathways have sustained significant damage. I don’t have the equipment here I need to repair it. The longer we stay here, the worse you’re going to feel.” It was too soon to speak of fatality, but if he couldn’t get her into the Infirmary back on the station in time, that would be the result.

“The chief will have repairs completed before you know it,” she said. “In the mean time, there are almost eight thousand people down there for us to meet.”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” He had to dig deep to find his professional detachment. “The only place you’re going for now is to sickbay. I want you on a biobed so I can stabilize you as much as possible.”

“I am going down to that planet at least once,” she said defiantly, her jaw jutting.

“We’ll see.”

The lift ride was tense. As much as Julian wanted to soothe over the friction, he knew better than to try. Her irritation wasn’t about him or the fact that he had to look out for her well being. It was about missing out on a fantastic discovery and being fussed and fretted over when she’d rather be exploring. He could hardly fault her for that. After getting her settled on the biobed, he decided it would be easier to see the full extent of the damage if she was unconscious for a few minutes. She reluctantly agreed to the neural caliper.

Just as Schmidt set the bed to a full scan, Julian heard a hail from the console. Stepping to the side, he accepted the transmission. Nothing but garbled, wet noises came through at first, then he thought he heard the word, “Help.” 

He double checked the location of the internal comm of origin and tapped his badge. “Bashir to Odo. I need you in 4C immediately.” He frowned when he received no reply. Had he beamed down to the planet? It seemed unlikely with Kira injured. “Computer? What is Constable Odo’s location?” 

“Constable Odo is in sector 4C.”

“Damn! Keep scanning! I’ll handle this.” He snatched his kit and took off at a run, careening through the corridors and taking a couple of ladders with a practiced slide. When he reached Odo, he saw him oozing and churning on the floor, tentacles lifting and sinking back down again in a way that looked panicked. “I’m here,” he said. He skidded to a stop on his knees and ran the tricorder over him. “It’s quantum fluctuations from the energy barrier surrounding the planet. It’s preventing you from maintaining your form. You’re all right, even though I’m sure it doesn’t feel like it. I’m going to get a container for you, and then I’m going to put you in a stasis field. It will be just like a regeneration cycle, only longer. I’m told we’ll be leaving the planet in a few days. The chief needs to make some repairs.”

As he spoke, Odo smoothed out and lay mostly still, pulsing gently. He felt certain that he had heard and understood him, sparing a brief thought for Doctor Mora and what it must have felt like talking to a small puddle of gel once he became aware it was a life form. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

This time he jogged to sickbay, still feeling a need for haste but not as urgent. He checked Kira’s status, satisfied that the scan was going well, and found a suitable cylinder to hold Odo. By the time he reached him again, he was slightly out of breath. “All right.” He dropped down to one knee and placed the cylinder on its side on the floor. “Can you make it inside on your own?”

Odo moved slowly and jerkily. It took him longer than it normally would to fill the cylinder. Julian couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have that sort of energy disruption coursing through his system. He didn’t envy him at all. Quickly capping the opening, he stood and retraced his steps at a swift walk. He doubted Odo would enjoy the jolting of a faster pace.

The biobed completed its scan. Word arrived from the planet that it was safe to come down and that the inhabitants were descendents of the Defiant’s crew. The captain promised a more detailed explanation in person. He could see Schmidt was excited and itching to go, so he told her to go ahead. “I’ll likely be down shortly, myself,” he said.

Setting Odo aside, he awoke Kira first, then moved to place the canister in the field. He performed another scan and filled Kira in on what had happened to Odo and the extent of her neural damage. He felt more in control now. Being able to help Odo in a meaningful way and having more information about what procedure Kira needed once they returned had him back in his element.

When he was certain both of his patients would be fine for now, he indulged himself in the opportunity to beam down to the planet. The prospect of meeting his own descendents intrigued him. He couldn’t wait to find out how it happened and who they were. He wondered if any of them would look like him. As he stepped onto the transporter pad, he couldn’t stop smiling.

_Garak  
Garak’s Clothiers_

He wasn’t sure what to expect with Leeta’s arrival. She had been less than enthusiastic at his proposal to meet him for a fitting and to discuss gown designs. He suspected it had to do with lack of funds but couldn’t discount the possibility that she was still annoyed with him for seeming to take Rom’s side in their recent conflict. At nearly ten minutes past their appointment time, he was on the verge of deciding to cancel. Tardiness was one of the things he couldn’t abide, friend or no.

She hurried through his doors barefoot and carrying her shoes, one missing its heel, her expression frazzled. “I’m so sorry. It caught in the turbolift grate. I spent a good five minutes trying to pry it out and longer than I should have trying to decide whether I should go back to my room for another pair or hobble in begging forgiveness. The stupid heel is still in the turbolift. I hope nobody trips on it.”

There were times he was happy to be wrong. He smiled pleasantly and waved a hand. “Think nothing of it, dear. You’re here now.” He crossed to the shoe rack to select something for her that would fit and be appropriate for her work shift later.

“Nothing too expensive,” she cautioned.

“Yes, I’m aware of your situation,” he said. He brought the shoes to her and took the damaged pair to set aside.

She squared her shoulders and drew up to an impressive height in the new heels. “About that,” she said. “I can’t afford anything extravagant, and I don’t want charity. Also—now, don’t get a big head about this—I’ve been thinking about some of the things you said when Rom and I were fighting.”

He maintained an expression of neutral curiosity. “Yes?” he asked mildly.

She squinted at him before continuing. “There is no way I’m going to get married naked, but...maybe I don’t need anything too special, either. I’m thinking, what if you just make me a nice dress? I wear it some before the wedding, and I just happen to wear it at the wedding?”

“I’ve selected several Bajoran designs to show you,” he protested.

She shook her head. “I love that you’ve done that for me. If I were marrying a Bajoran, you couldn’t keep me away from your style book. But I’m not. I’m marrying Rom. He’s making lots of compromises for me and catching a lot of flack from Quark for it. So I need to figure out where I can compromise, too. This is one of those places.”

He successfully resisted the urge to squeeze her shoulder but couldn’t quite control the brightness of his smile. “Let’s see what we can find, then,” he said.

“I’ve said it before. You should definitely smile like that more often.” She followed him to the counter and bent her head over the PADD. As they swiped through more casual styles, she said, “I was mad at you at first. I couldn’t believe you’d take his side, but then I remembered when I had such difficulties with Julian, you took my side. Not because you like me more.” Her mouth quirked up at the corners, dark eyes twinkling in her glance at him. “And not because you wanted him for yourself, but because he was treating me badly.” She tapped one of the dresses to mark it for later consideration.

“I didn’t think you were treating Rom badly,” he said.

“No, but you were right when you said I wasn’t seeing things from his side. You weren’t arguing for Rom. You were arguing for us, as a couple. I probably shouldn’t tell you this. He admires you so much. You don’t know how much it means to him that you listen to him and support him.” She marked another dress.

He felt a familiar unease at hearing such things. “You’re right,” he said a bit tartly. “You shouldn’t tell me this. It’s Rom’s to tell or not.”

She cocked her head and looked at him in a way that deepened his unease. “Fine. I’ll speak for myself, then. It means the world to me that you support him. Us.” She seized his hand in a firm grip before he could protest. “The proper response to that is, ‘Thank you, Leeta. You’re important to me, too.’” There was a teasing light in her eyes, but he could tell there was weight behind it.

The truth was he longed so desperately for this sort of connection at times that it was a physical ache. He felt his facade of a smile sliding into place as though it was someone else’s face. That false someone said, “I’ll never understand why other species have such a desire for sentiment. On Cardassia, we don’t feel the need to tell each other such things. Actions are enough.”

She sighed and slid her palm across the back of his hand as she released her grip. “One day I’m not going to let you get away with that. I’m going to dig down to the person whose real smile lights the whole room. You’re lucky I have to get to work soon.”

He shivered inwardly, not quite allowing himself to imagine how that would feel. If anyone could do it, she likely could. He took the PADD and tapped one of her selections. “I like this cut,” he said. “What if we made a patchwork pattern with the colors that flatter you most?”

_Julian  
Gaia_

Everywhere he looked, Julian couldn’t help but to believe that the settlement, the planet, was aptly named. The air was fresher than any he’d experienced before, the vistas rivaling those of ancient French Naturalist paintings he’d seen at the Louvre. The villagers were as curious about him as he was about them. Despite having decent directions to the infirmary, it took him nearly two hours to make it there. He took in every detail of the warm adobe exterior before stepping into the cooler interior.

“There you are!” The woman approaching him spread her arms, her light amber eyes as kind as her smile.

Julian allowed himself to be drawn into her embrace with a feeling of surreal satisfaction. This woman was one of his descendants, a living, breathing sign that his line had continued in this unlikely place, and she was a doctor of all things! He drew back and held her arms lightly. “Doctor Bashir, I presume?” he asked playfully.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said. “Please, call me Sarah. You look just like the images stored in the databanks. It’s extraordinary, really. I keep thinking I’m dreaming and will wake up soon.” She shook her head and gestured deeper into the building. “I don’t want to waste your time with things like that, though. I’m sure you have questions. Come into my office. I want to show you something.”

He followed her. His eyes hardly rested. The waiting room wasn’t so different from those he’d seen worlds over, more primitive, to be sure, but its function obvious. There was no one present other than the two of them for the moment. He noticed a ledger lying atop a desk off to one side. “Do you keep written records?”

“Yes,” she said. “Our computer storage is limited. We maintain family records, mostly, lineage, births, deaths, and we have a few education programs stored in our databases. Patient records are written. It must seem terribly quaint to you.” She led him down a wide hallway past several open doors, exam rooms, toward a larger room at the end of the hall.

“Quaint? It’s incredible to me that all of you have not only managed to survive with nothing but the limited resources left to you after the crash, but thrive. That you’re a doctor.” He shook his head with wonder. “My own...what? How many generations?”

“Six since the crash. Seven if you count the kids coming up now,” she said as she gestured him ahead of her into her office. “I don’t use the title doctor. I’m a healer.

“My own great, great, great, _great_ granddaughter,” he said, grinning. “A healer.”

“That’s what I wanted to show you.” She beckoned him around her desk to a wall terminal. He recognized Defiant technology. That they had managed to keep it functional all this time was likely a testament to Miles’ descendants, he thought. 

She slid her fingers over the display to bring up Bashir family records, starting with him and...his brow furrowed. “I don’t recognize that woman,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Her name was—is—Angie Kirby,” she offered.

He squinted at the display. She was gorgeous. How had he not noticed this woman before? He opened his mouth to say as much, then paused, a sudden thought of Garak throwing a damper on his enthusiasm. What had happened to him after the Defiant left for the Gamma Quadrant and never returned? His question came out distractedly. “When did we—that is—how soon after the crash did Angie and I—” he let the question hang.

“Dax says that you two were the first married,” she said proudly, “even before Jadzia Dax and Worf, Son of Mogh. You had eight children. Miraculously, all of them survived. Or maybe I shouldn’t say that, considering who their father was and how gifted. Your healing touch is legendary.” Her cheeks colored faintly. “I probably sound like I’m blathering. I confess it’s intimidating meeting you.”

“No, no, not at all,” he reassured her. Inwardly, he was reeling. _Eight children? The first to marry?_ Had he even waited until they knew for certain that there was no hope of going home? Was that knowledge why he’d sought solace in Angie Kirby? The thought of Garak alone on the station searching for him day after day, exhausting every resource, possibly taking foolish risks, it was distressing, and that he had thrown himself so quickly into marriage? Children?

“Is something wrong?”

“I suppose I’m a bit intimidated, too,” he lied smoothly. “Hard to measure up to a legendary reputation when I haven’t earned it yet.” He smiled blandly and allowed her to absorb him in the extended Bashir family tree for the next couple of hours. The only thing that made it possible for him to enjoy himself was the thought that this time around, they weren’t just going to crash land on the planet, but that thanks to a doubling effect both Daxes seemed to think would work, he would return to Garak on the station.

He left her with a promise he’d have dinner with her and her family, stepping out into late afternoon sunshine that warmed his face and invited him to set aside his troubles for just a little while. He found Angie Kirby with a child who resembled Sarah, both of them kneeling near a splashing fountain and playing a game with glass balls in a ring.

Angie looked up, having to shield her eyes against the sun behind his head. “Care to join us?” she asked.

She truly was a dazzling beauty, her sleek dark hair in a jaw skimming bob and her wide-set eyes the purest sea green he had ever seen. “I, ah...” he cleared his throat. “I’m Julian Bashir.”

The girl with her let out an excited sound and sprang to her feet. “Another ancestor! You’re gonna marry!” She scooped up all the game pieces and dropped them into a pouch. “Wait until I tell Jacob!” She raced off before either of them had a chance to say another word, shooting a wave over her shoulder.

Angie climbed to her feet and dusted off her knees. She offered a hand and met his gaze boldly. “I guess you know who I am,” she said with a crooked grin. “I’m not sure if I should be glad I haven’t had a reason to meet you before now or not.”

He shook her hand and wondered if the electricity he felt at the touch was due solely to what he knew of their future. Another pang of guilt stabbed him hard enough to leave him wincing. He released her hand abruptly. “I’m surprised we haven’t met yet. I’d have noticed you.”

“I transferred to the Defiant just last week,” she said with a shrug. “Passed all my health checks before the assignment.”

“Right,” he said, feeling more awkward by the minute. “Standard procedure. I suppose you’ve been meeting with the various Kirby-Bashirs?”

She nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear. He tried to ignore the flutter the gesture sparked in his belly. “It’s surreal. I have to say, marriage and children have been the furthest thing from my mind for my entire career. I mean...” She shrugged again. “I guess I’ve had it in the distant future, tucked away as a vague someday. Being confronted with it here like this, seeing all these kids and hearing about how many we had...have...” She laughed. “I don’t even know how to talk about it.”

“There’s a reason temporal mechanics has its very own division in Star Fleet,” he said, finding her laughter contagious. “One I’ve managed to avoid as much as possible.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve got a headache right now.” To his surprise, she stepped to his side and looped her arm through his with a link at their elbows. “And,” she added, “tell me about yourself. If we’re going to be tying the knot, I ought to know more about you.”

“I, ah...I...that is...” he felt himself flushing and had a harder time disentangling from her than he thought he should have. “We’re... _we’re_ not getting married, you know, not if the Daxes succeed at the doubling, which I’m sure they will, because Dax is brilliant.” He knew he was speaking far too quickly and couldn’t for the life of him stop himself.

She cocked her head, the crooked grin spreading wider. “You’re adorable,” she declared. “And so are our descendents, so we made, make, however you want to put it, a good match. Plus it’s gorgeous here. I almost envy them a little, our distant past selves. You can’t say it isn’t a glorious adventure, and you can’t argue with success.” She gestured at the buildings surrounding them.

“No, I can’t, at that,” he agreed. He could see why he would gravitate toward her if he wasn’t intent on getting back home to Garak. She was effortlessly enthusiastic and seemed to possess a sense of adventure he once had, only to have it slowly eroded by his experiences serving on Deep Space Nine. Perhaps in this past, she had never lost it and helped him recover his. He became aware of her studying him and realized how long he had been quiet. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m... I’m having trouble with this. I’m involved with someone on the station, and it’s hard to reconcile that with all of this.” He mirrored her recent gesture.

She briefly squeezed his forearm. “We were stranded, no hope of return. You can’t beat yourself up for something you did in the face of that.” She straightened and took a half step back from him, her smile returning. “You don’t have to worry that I’ll push for something on the ship or the station when we leave this place, other than friendship.” The smile grew cheeky. “We’re obviously compatible. We have dozens of descendents.”

The tension that had been slowly coiling in his belly eased. Yes, a friendship would be lovely, doable, non-threatening. He wondered if Garak would see it the same way when he returned to the station and told him everything. “Will you be coming to dinner at Sarah’s tonight?”

“Briala would hunt me down and pelt me with those marbles of hers if I didn’t,” she said. “I’m going to do some more exploring. See you later tonight, Doc.” Waving, she turned and wove into the small crowd of villagers still jostling in the square meeting and greeting their ancestors and other crew members.

_Doc._ He decided he liked that. Smiling to himself, he stepped into the flow of foot traffic traveling in the opposite direction from Angie. He didn’t get far before a familiar voice arrested him. “Julian.”

He whirled with words of admonition on his lips that died at the sight of the man. It was most assuredly Odo but not the Odo currently in stasis on the Defiant. His features were too defined and sharp, his hair wavier. He reminded him of how he looked when Curzon inhabited his body.

“I went to see her,” Odo continued, seemingly untroubled by his temporary muteness.

“Her?” He didn’t truly have to ask. He knew. He needed the split second or two to process what the statement implied. Yes, he had already heard what had happened to Kira after the crash. This was someone who had witnessed it personally. It made it real.

Odo continued as though he hadn’t asked. “I’m hoping you’ll clear her to come down to the planet for a while. The fresh air will do her some good.” The way he looked at him made him uncomfortable. After the silence stretched, he said, “It’s good to see you again. It has been a very long time. I’ve thought of you often.”

“You have?” He blinked, taken aback.

“Is it so surprising? You gave me good advice that I’ve had a lot of time to wish I had taken. Can we walk?” He gestured at the flagstone path ahead, winding through the ocher-colored adobe buildings and out toward what looked like a garden.

“Of course.” He fell into step beside him, surreptitiously looking for any signs of the instability that had plagued him on the Defiant.

Odo’s chuckle came in a gravel rumble with more warmth than he was accustomed to hearing from the changeling. “I’m fine. I adapted to the energy signature in time. I don’t even feel it anymore.”

“You look so different.” It wasn’t just his form. He looked happy in a way Julian had never imagined he’d see him. No, perhaps happy wasn’t the right word. He looked content. At peace.

“I’ve had a long time to practice.”

He didn’t bother correcting him about what he’d meant. A sweet smelling breeze blew toward them off the flowers. Instinctively, he lifted his head to take more of it in, his eyes half closing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Odo faintly nodding. He wondered if he found the environment as agreeable. “You wanted to talk?” he prompted.

“I do. I told her how I feel,” he said.

Julian frowned thoughtfully. “You know it’s possible you’ve made complications for...him, the other you, the one in the cylinder.”

“I’ve been living with the complication of my silence for two centuries now. I can’t change my past or my life here. I can help him, whether he’ll appreciate it immediately or not.” He steered them off the flagstones onto soft, rustling turf. Julian silently marveled at how his hair and clothing reacted to the wind. It might still have been nothing in the eyes of most Founders. Given Odo’s limitations, it was nothing short of miraculous.

“And if she never feels the same way?” he asked.

“That’s her decision,” he said simply. “The only thing that ever held me back was fear, Julian. It took losing her altogether to see that. If she had survived here and I’d worked up the courage to tell her I loved her, I would have gladly accepted friendship as the answer. The only reason I’m telling you any of this is that I know he’ll need your help, and I know you’ll gladly give it. You’re a good friend.”

It startled him how good it felt to hear that stated so plainly. He looked away quickly, allowing his gaze to sweep the horizon and acting like it was just the beauty of the place that had him entranced, not that he believed he was fooling him. Odo was too observant for that. How long would he carry that little boy inside who was so desperate for approval? It had already been a lifetime.

“You always did have an easier time of accepting professional compliments than personal ones,” Odo observed.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he met the deep-set blue gaze. It wasn’t the open, easy fondness he saw. “I’m usually the one saying that to Garak,” he said in an attempt to defuse his discomfort.

Odo smiled slightly, looking as though he intended to say one thing only to change his mind at the last instant. “I’m glad this time you get to go back to him.”

That opened the door to dozens of questions he wanted to ask without finding the heart to voice a single one. _This time is different,_ he told himself firmly. “I’ll go check on Nerys,” he said instead. “If she’s stable, I see no reason she can’t come down to visit.”

“Thank you.”

It was hard to imagine the Odo he knew ever expressing his emotions so freely. As he stepped away from him to signal for a transport, he felt a small twinge of regret that he’d never see the development personally. Who knew how different things would be on the station with rumors of war brewing and Odo’s people poised for full scale invasion of the Alpha Quadrant? Maybe this Odo would never have the chance to come to be in their timeline. Or maybe, as this Odo hoped, he could help his counterpart find a way to happiness. Knowing he wanted it made it easier to justify being more involved. “Bashir to the transporter room,” he said, tapping his com badge. “One to beam up.”

_Garak  
Docking Bay 4 Airlock_

They had stood there long enough for it to get awkward, he and the families and friends of those manning the Defiant mission into the Gamma Quadrant. He supposed he preferred that to the times he had found himself standing there alone, ample evidence that everyone except him had been informed of a delay. What was it that the Terrans said? Misery loved company? He found it a rather Cardassian sentiment.

The O’Briens stood not too far from him, Keiko at least temporarily back from her botanical survey of Bajor. It was gratifying to see her holding Kirayoshi in the way he had shown Ziyal. It meant two things, that the family involved Ziyal enough in the childcare for her to have the chance to pass along the tip and that he wouldn’t be subjected to the piercing wailing of the almost perpetually unhappy baby. Molly’s constant stream of consciousness patter and questions for her mother were more than enough for his impatience frayed nerves.

And why did the Starfleeters insist on taking all of their primary command and control crew on these missions? Tactically, it made no sense to him. Should the ship be lost, so would those most knowledgeable and competent for manning a critically important station. Should it be captured, well, who better than he to know that even the most loyal and competent would eventually crack under the right pressure?

Jake Sisko’s face externally mirrored Garak’s internal tension. A captain really should train his offspring better than that, he thought. So much could be read by the right observer, more than a simple view of the moment. On some level, he knew his inner critic was particularly loud to mask his anxiety. On another, he was more than happy to indulge it if it kept him from imagining the worst.

The approach of a Bajoran security officer he recognized from his incarceration did nothing to quell his fears. The woman cleared her throat and spoke crisply. “We have nothing on long range scanners from the probe we launched an hour ago. We plan to keep it operational until it’s spotted and destroyed by a Jem’Hadar patrol. In the mean time, I suggest all of you return to your quarters or whatever business you have. The Defiant won’t be returning on schedule or any time in the near future.”

“Have you heard from them?” Jake asked, beating Keiko to the punch by a mere second.

“We have no more information at this time.” She turned on her heel to leave, a clear signal that she didn’t intend to answer any more questions.

“Great,” Jake muttered with an eye roll and a slouch of his shoulders.

“You could come to dinner with us,” Keiko offered.

Garak turned to go. He had seen and heard enough. He needed to find a way to occupy himself that didn’t involve poking around in the station computer systems. He typically reserved that for two day or more delays on principle alone.

“You’re welcome to come, too,” Keiko’s voice called from behind. 

He paused and turned at the waist, an eye ridge lifted. Her eye contact confirmed she was speaking to him. Jake cut in over his refusal. “Yeah, Mister Garak, you should come. You could have a look at something I’ve been working on with Ziyal.”

“It’s my understanding I owe you for this minor miracle,” Keiko added, bouncing a still quiet Kirayoshi in her hold. Molly stayed close to her mother’s side, her wide, dark eyes fixed on him in expectation. 

He put on his blandest smile. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. He wondered how the chief would take the news he’d been in his quarters. It made the prospect suddenly far more palatable. Molly seized Jake by the hand and drew him ahead, skipping at his side. Some of her chatter carried back to Garak and Keiko, enough that he gathered Jake was a frequent babysitter. 

“You truly have made our lives easier,” Keiko said quietly enough not to project forward to her daughter. “Julian says Kirayoshi is healthy and will grow out of crying frequently. We never dealt with it with Molly. As a parent, you think having one will prepare you for the next. As it turns out, not so much.”

“I’m glad I could be of assistance.” He was already beginning to regret accepting. He could think of few things more tedious than discussing others’ children for any length of time. On Cardassia, one didn’t discuss their children beyond their accomplishments as they rose through the ranks in school or made something of themselves afterward. There was a very good reason for that, he thought dryly.

“With as much time as Miles and Julian spend together, you’d think we’d have done this sooner.” She shifted the baby to lie against her shoulder now that he was drowsy enough and glanced up at Garak with an amused half smile.

“I don’t think the chief would approve.” He said it airily, but there was a barb in his answering smile.

Her smile died, and her nostrils flared with a long exhale. “I’m aware of Miles’ prejudice,” she said evenly. “I don’t share it, and I don’t want to raise my children to share it. Whether he approves or not is irrelevant. I’m sorry if you’ve had reason to think otherwise.”

Her grave earnestness was enough to make him regret his jab. There was a time in his life he’d have considered it fair game to go after an enemy through his family. He was losing his stomach for that sort of cruelty. “He doesn’t seem to have much of an issue with Ziyal,” he said mildly, conciliation if she chose to see it that way.

She smiled again, this time more warmly. “You’d have to be a monster to have an issue with Ziyal. How such a sweet girl could come from such an awful man, I’ll never understand.”

They drew close to the turbolift, giving him just enough time to reply, “He didn’t raise her. That makes all the difference.” He said nothing else on the subject, not wanting either Jake or Molly to overhear and pass along anything to Ziyal later about the conversation.

Molly slipped back to Keiko’s side and tugged at her sleeve. “Mama? We’re not going to have to eat Cardassian food again, are we?”

Keiko’s mouth tightened. “You’re being rude,” she said.

“But I don’t like it,” Molly’s voice rose.

Jake’s lips twitched. He shot a quick glance at Garak, half amusement, half rue.

“The replicator doesn’t do it justice,” Garak cut in before things could escalate further. “Although I suspect it’s also a matter of differences between our species. I can’t abide the taste or texture of Brussels sprouts, for example.”

“You’re not the only one,” Jake said, pulling a face. “That’s a bad example.”

“Yeah,” Molly agreed. “Yuck.”

“All right, no Brussels sprouts, either,” Keiko raised her voice to put a stop to all of that. “When we get home, you three can gather around the replicator and hash out what all of you like together while I’m putting Kirayoshi down for the night.”

They stepped onto the turbolift and waited for the O’Briens’ H-ring. “Do you like spinach?” Molly asked Garak.

“It’s inoffensive.” It was the best he could offer her. He felt utter indifference or intense dislike about most leafy vegetation from Earth as food with the possible exception of what they termed “ _seaweed._ ”

“What does that mean?” she asked, still staring at him as though she could bore a hole through his eyes with the power of curiosity alone. He found it almost intolerably impudent.

“It means he could take it or leave it,” Jake said. Glancing at Keiko, he reached down to swing Molly up to a seat on his shoulders. “Why don’t we wait until we get to the replicator? I think your mom is tired.”

“She’s not tired. She’s worried about Daddy.” She patted her hands on top of Jake’s head. “Are you worried about your daddy?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she looked back at Garak, her features screwing up in confusion while she visibly worked at something she wanted to say.

Thankfully, the turbolift came to a halt, and Jake answered her before she could ask Garak anything about his family or whatever else was running through her mind. She was bright enough. However, he found her lack of discipline at her age increasingly off putting. No Cardassian child would ever ramble from one subject to the next, hardly pausing for breath, or question adults and stare at them as though they were equals. Bajoran children also had better manners when not poisoned against him by their parents.

“Nah, I’m not worried about Dad,” Jake said, an obvious lie that Molly didn’t seem to catch. “He’s a great captain, and he has your dad there to keep the ship running in good shape.”

“Then why are they late?” she asked.

Garak waited for Keiko to step out and took up the rear.

“There could be all sorts of reasons, sweetie,” Keiko said. “They could have found something interesting to look at and needed more time to take readings, or they could have found somebody who needed help.”

“They could be trying to get information on our enemies,” Garak said, refusing to wilt under the quick glare Keiko shot him.

Jake set Molly down and pointed down the corridor. “You want to get the door for us?” He seemed to sense the sudden shift of tension in the air. Garak had to admire his perceptiveness. He hadn’t looked back at either one of them to know something was amiss.

It was no good. Molly latched onto his comment exactly like the bait it was. “You mean the bad people coming through the wormhole?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s important we find out everything we can about them, their weaknesses, their wants, the way they think.”

“Why?” she asked. She stopped walking altogether and turned to face him.

“That’s enough,” Keiko’s voice cut sharply, brooking no argument. “Go open the door for us, Molly.” The girl did so reluctantly. Keiko leaned in closer to Garak and hissed, “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I won’t have it. Not with my child. Do you understand?”

He spread his hands, the picture of innocence. “I intended no offense. I’m not even certain what I said to anger you.”

“Molly is five years old. I don’t want her thinking about things like that. She has trouble enough getting to sleep when her father is on away missions.” She glared at him until it seemed she decided he truly hadn’t meant any harm and let out a soft sigh. “I know Cardassians raise their children differently, have harsher expectations at young ages. Humans aren’t like that, Garak. Please try to keep that in mind when you talk to her. No more talk of enemies and spying. OK?”

“Of course,” he conceded. He was in entirely the wrong frame of mind for having a pleasant dinner with these people. His worry for Julian and his irritation at the child were getting the better of him, pushing him into habits he had up to this point done well at abandoning. By this time, Jake and Molly were already inside, and backing out would make it seem like he intended to pick the fight or took offense at her correction. He felt the first twinge of a headache coming on.

The quarters were a nice surprise, the abundance of plants instantly bringing Tolan to mind. He walked from plant to plant with a genuine sense of admiration for their health and upkeep, not to mention the sheer variety from many different worlds. While Jake and Molly headed over to the replicator, Keiko started for the bedroom. “I’ll be out in a little while. You’re welcome to touch the plants if you like, Garak. Just not the—” 

“Chameleon rose,” he finished for her. No, it wouldn’t do for him to touch that in the mood he was in. It would lose all its lovely gold and drain away as gray as his skin, if not darker.

For the first time that night, she beamed at him. “I didn’t know you were a plant person!”

“Uh oh,” Jake said over his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to get her started on that, Mister Garak? She’ll go on all night. I mean, really, all night.”

“She will,” Molly confirmed.

“As it happens, I’m a bit of a gardener,” he said, stepping away from the plants and moving over to the replicator.

It was harder than it should have been, he thought, to find a few dishes that all three of them could agree were palatable. On Cardassia, food was too scarce for any child to be a picky eater. He could understand some of Jake’s complaints better, knowing he had spent his early years eating fresh food and having eaten some of Captain Sisko’s cooking himself. At last they managed, a couple of seafood dishes with rice and a clear broth soup that wasn’t much more than glorified water with a few floating bits of sea greens. The three of them set the table so that when Keiko returned to them, all she had to do was to serve herself from the central dishes and take a seat. She shot all of them a grateful look.

“Yoshi isn’t eating with us?” Molly asked.

She shook her head. “He’s tired. He didn’t get his nap today. I didn’t hear a fight break out in here, so I’m assuming the selection process was relatively painless?”

“Relatively,” Jake said, shooting her a quick grin.

“So what was that about your being a gardener, Garak?”

“Here we go.” Jake gave a dramatic sigh that had Molly giggling.

Before the dinner conversation ended, he felt it a point of pride that not only were Keiko and Jake engrossed with his tales of life on Romulus, carefully peppered with crumbs of truth, but even Molly stayed mostly quiet and attentive. When it was her turn for bed, he endured a spontaneous hug and patted her on the back lightly. Keiko excused herself to help with bedtime preparations, and Jake switched seats to sit beside Garak to show him the project he’d mentioned.

It was his turn for engrossment. The art and the writing were far from polished, yet had impact for precisely that reason. It was a thinly fictional account of a girl in a Breen labor camp. “I’m assuming she gave you these details?” he asked, feeling oddly jealous that it was something she never spoke of with him.

“Yeah, some. Some I took from accounts of other people who had been through similar stuff. She doesn’t want it to be about her, you know? It’s a fictional story. When we get more of it done, it’s gonna veer a lot more from what happened to her. I probably should have asked her before I showed it to you. I figured it would be OK because she’s always showing you her art.”

“What do you intend to do with it?” he asked.

Jake shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We might just keep it to ourselves. It’ll depend on how she feels about the finished work. I mean, it _is_ about her, even though it isn’t, if that makes sense.”

“Perfect sense.” He focused more on the words than the art because it was a side of her he hadn’t yet seen. The truths between the lies were easy enough to read for one of his bent. He glanced up with a questioning look when he came to a panel where the girl shot her would-be rescuing father dead in the cramped corridor. There was more detail in the energy blast than in most of the rest of the rough sketches.

Jake’s gaze slid uneasily to the side. “I pushed for that,” he said. “She’s still not sure about it.” Garak watched muscle leap beneath the skin of his jaw, the boy’s long fingers curving together into not quite a fist. “You know what makes me really mad?” he asked without looking at him.

He imagined he could guess. “What?”

“I think she’d still take him back in a heartbeat. I don’t think there’s anything he could do that will make her see what an ass he is. It kills me.” He shook his head. “I love my dad more than anything, but if he did to me the things Gul Dukat has done to her...”

Garak gently pushed the PADD back toward him on the tabletop. “You will never know what you can or can’t forgive until you’re tested.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Jake’s brows knitted upward, forming furrows that one day would remain etched there, giving a glimpse of the man to come.

“When someone tells you to leave somebody alone and stay away, what’s your inclination?” he asked obliquely.

Jake scowled. “Point taken.”

“Is it? If you truly want to help her, no more of this.” He tapped the violent panel. “If you start that competition, you’ll lose it the moment it’s begun.”

Keiko returned to the room and gestured toward the sofa. “You’re welcome to get more comfortable if you like.”

Looking between both of them, Jake stood and slipped his PADD into his satchel. “I’d better not,” he said. “I ought to get home to see if Dad has left a message. You want me to hail you guys if he has?”

“Please,” Keiko said immediately. Garak nodded, too.

“All right. I will. Thanks for dinner, Mrs. O’Brien. Good night. Good night, Mister Garak.” He nodded to each and stepped out into the corridor.

Garak took it as his cue to leave. However much he might enjoy the idea of tweaking O’Brien’s nose about visiting his quarters, he didn’t want word getting back to him that he stayed for any length of time alone with his wife and children. With the way he felt about Cardassians, that was courting a level of enmity that could quickly get out of hand in the close quarters of a space station. He stood and inclined his head pleasantly. “Your hospitality was most appreciated.”

“Don’t expect this to be the last invitation,” she said. She moved to walk him to the door. “Now that I know you’re almost as obsessed with plants as I am, we’re far from done talking.”

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that,” he said. He would take plant talk over child talk any time. She had a scientific mind and an encyclopedic knowledge of flora he looked forward to plumbing. It was something he had yet to find in any of his other friends or acquaintances here, a piece of his past he missed for its own sake.

She rested a hand on her chest briefly, her dimpled smile charming. “I’m a hugger. I have a feeling you’re not, so I’ll spare you the indignity.”

Something about the sweet honesty of the statement disarmed him. Half smiling, he held his hand up, palm toward her. “On my world, a press of the palm is no less genial.”

“Then I’m flattered.” She pressed her hand to his quickly and gently, her palm surprisingly cooler than his and dry. “Cold hands,” she added, wrinkling her nose and whipping her hand behind her back. “Sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Good night, Mrs. O’Brien.” He stepped back and turned down the corridor.

“Keiko,” she called after him just before the whoosh of the closing door.

He hoped against hope for news from Jake when he arrived back in his quarters, only to find the comm disappointingly dark and silent. It was early to truly worry yet. He’d save that for tomorrow night or the night after, he told himself. It did little good when he decided not to listen, still awake well into early morning and monitoring incoming transmissions.

**Part III**

_Julian  
Gaia_

Planting was harder work than anyone could have made him believe before experiencing it for himself. Something about it scoured him free of higher thought, fortunate given he knew how futile it was. By morning, the fields and everyone working them but his forty-eight crew members would be gone from this place, with Odo still safely ensconced in his cylinder until they cleared the energy field. The sting of Yedrin Dax’s lie had yet to fade, false hope offered and unceremoniously yanked away the moment Jadzia double checked the equations. For now there was cheerful industry, the heat of the sun on his back, and fragrant plants and dirt under his hands.

He straightened and knuckled at his lower back when Miles approached, expression grim and conflicted. “What is it?” he asked, looking around to see if someone had been hurt.

Shaking his head, Miles drew him aside until they were out of earshot of the villagers. “We’re not leavin’,” he said. “We can’t...” His voice cracked. “We can’t let these people die.”

“But Nerys—” he protested with less heat than he thought he should.

“You know how she feels.” Miles’ voice was almost savage in its conviction. “Look at ‘em. How could we? It tears me up to say it, t’ even think it.”

He nodded slowly, stomach knotting. It was an impossible choice, wasn’t it? No matter which one they made, he couldn’t avoid doing harm. However, Nerys’ decision was hers to make, one death against thousands. The thought of never going back to Garak cut deeply, worse because this time it was a deliberate decision, no mere accident. It was delusion to imagine Garak would be all right any time soon. Still, he’d be far better off than Miles’ children or Jake, or many of the other families who’d be losing parents. He wiped a dirty hand hard against his mouth to stop the trembling of his lips. “You’re sure?” How could the guilt of it not eat his friend alive when all was said and done, abandoning his wife and children to an uncertain future in the Alpha Quadrant on the verge of war?

“I told the Captain and Nerys already,” he said. “They agreed with me. I think they’re goin’ to tell Yedrin and Miranda this afternoon, after the work is done.”

He tried to imagine the planet without the agriculture, the wells, the pipes and improvements, nothing but a crashed ship for shelter against heat, cold, and worse. He realized it was easier to think ahead to that than how he’d feel for going along with this, or for not. Miles squeezed his shoulder, their silence together saying enough. He nodded again. If his friend needed his agreement, he’d have it, however reluctantly. They returned to work to avoid spreading their moods to others. The villagers had decided for this to be a joyous day. At the end of it, they’d have more reason to celebrate than they realized. He and the rest of the crew could share their regrets back on the ship for the few hours they had left.

He couldn’t reclaim the simple satisfaction he’d felt at the communal effort. He couldn’t shake thoughts of Garak. For every word he thought, such as, _self-sufficient_ or, _unsentimental_ , others followed unbidden. _Heartbroken. Lost. Alone._ Would he revert to harsher instincts? Isolate himself fully? Do something foolhardy? _Ziyal is there,_ he told himself. _As long as he has her to look after, he won’t lose himself. He’ll stay strong for her sake._ It was small comfort, but it was comfort. It allowed him to finish out planting day without falling into silence or full blown grief.

When they gathered back in the village, word quickly spread of their change of heart. He found Angie in the tightly packed throng of excited people in the square and took her blistered hand. Their descendents surrounded them, hugging them, weeping, laughing, expressing disbelief and gratitude often in the same breath. He soaked in as much of the feelings as he could handle, feeling loved and experiencing a completion words couldn’t begin to describe that warred directly with his guilt and impending sorrow.

Then it was time to get to the ship, and it wasn’t a moment too soon. Angie looked as raggedly emotional as he felt. They beamed up in waves from noise and celebration to the dry, sterile seeming air of the transporter room. The ensign there conveyed the captain’s orders, that they were to get to their bunks and record messages for their loved ones to be sent beyond the energy barrier in a probe.

He parted from her numbly, a hand there and then released unceremoniously, so that he could beat the rush soon to follow behind. Never had he been more grateful for his rank than now, having a small bunk to himself to which he could retreat and record his message without worrying about being overheard or taking too much time for someone else to have their turn. He trotted down the corridor, heedless of the trail of mud he left behind.

Once ensconced and seated before the small comm panel, he temporarily froze. He couldn’t imagine that there was anything he could say to Garak to soften this blow or to earn his forgiveness. He pictured the burning anger in his eyes, the closing off, the rejection, and strangely enough it brought him around to thoughts of his parents. He _ought_ to have something to say to them.

“Computer, begin recording, designation Richard and Amsha Bashir for the probe launch. I hope this message finds you both well. I really do. There’s no easy way to say this. If you’re hearing this message, it means that I and the crew of the USS Defiant have been thrown two hundred years into the past on a planet in the Gamma Quadrant. Damn, this is all coming out much drier than I want it to.

“We’ve made this decision to preserve the eight thousand lives of our descendents. We’ve weighed our wants and needs against the balance of life and come to the conclusion that there is no other morally superior course of action. We survive, all of us except the Bajoran Major you met when you visited, Kira Nerys. But I suppose all of that sounds overly academic to you. I’m sorry. I wanted you to understand why, why you’ve lost your son beyond reach or retrieval and why I took an active role in that choice.”

He swallowed thickly. He hadn’t expected to feel such a sense of loss in telling his parents good-bye. He was still trying to decide if he could ever truly forgive them. He wasn’t ready for this. “All that I think is left to say is that I love you.” His voice wavered. “I don’t want any of us going forward thinking about the mistakes of the past. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short time on Gaia, it’s that love is what lasts in the end. I hope that’s a comfort to you. It will be to me.” He manually ended the transmission and wiped thin tears from his cheeks, feeling the grit of the day’s work scraping his skin. He decided he must look a fright.

“One more to go. You have to do this.” He wiped his face again and sniffed a few times, hoping he didn’t sound as congested as he felt when he was ready to begin.

“Computer, begin separate recording, designation Garak for the probe launch. You’ve always said you understand my dedication to my work. I’m afraid I’m about to put that understanding to the ultimate test. You’ll have the details of what happened from other sources. I know you. I don’t want to waste our time on the whats or the whys.

“I want you to know...god, so many things. Forgive me if it’s all a jumble. You’re better than you think you are. If you keep surrounding yourself with good people who spark your better instincts, you’ll see that for yourself one day. It’s something I want for you more than anything, to be able to see yourself the way I see you. To know that you deserve good things, that you don’t have to be defined by your past.

“The other thing I want for you is to be able to go home. I’ve always known Cardassia is your first, greatest love. When I was younger and more naïve I resented it. I understand now. As I’m about to sacrifice my present for the future, for my blood and bone descendents, I understand. I love you all the more for it. A day won’t go by that I won’t think of you, but I will move forward. I must, just as you must, too. Take care of Ziyal. Be kind, to yourself most of all. Forgive me if you can, and know I love you with everything I am.”

That was it. He shuddered once before he could get his emotions under control. Now wasn’t the time for falling apart. His crew needed him if they were to keep all forty-nine members alive twice. He took some small comfort in the knowledge that Nerys would survive for a short while. This time around she’d have the chance to make peace with her death and say all she needed to say. He cleaned himself up and changed into a fresh uniform to be presentable on the bridge then headed there to take his place beside the captain.

It was odd how much he could steel himself to accept when it aligned with his oath. He felt only grim determination as the moment they’d encounter the anomaly neared and pride in his fellow crew for being the professional, good hearted people he had come to love and rely on during his assignment to Deep Space Nine. When Miles launched the probe carrying their messages, he silently willed his love to travel with it and hoped that somehow, some way, his intended targets would know.

The deck shifted abruptly beneath his feet, sending him hard into the back of Sisko’s chair. He caught himself and held tight, listening in alarm to everyone’s confused exclamations and feeling the moment they passed through the energy barrier at the wrong coordinates as a shiver running through the ablative plating.

He didn’t want to see what Kira said they’d find on the view screen, the empty planet devoid of sentient life or settlement. Gone, all of them. And it wasn’t just the eight thousand living whose lives ceased to exist in an instant but the weight and memories of all who had come before them, people who never would be and never had been.

Sisko remained quiet until the planetary view receded into the far distance and shook himself out of his heavy rest against the back of his chair. “We still have work to do, people,” he said, his bass a low rumble. “Let’s get to it. Chief, tell the rest of the crew we’re going home after all.”

“Permission to leave the bridge,” Julian said. “I want to be sure Odo is recovering now that we’ve left behind the energy field.”

“Permission granted, Doctor.”

He heard the softening of tone. He felt understood and that none of them were experiencing their pain alone. It didn’t stop him from hugging himself as he took the lift and walked the corridor toward sickbay. It occurred to him that there were emotional states not meant to exist together in the human mind and that being intelligent provided no immunity to the sick feeling inside abraded by deep, visceral relief.

He canceled the stasis field and opened the cylinder for Odo to emerge. The constable took shape before him in one quick, fluid motion, what he had come to expect from him. Strangely, he didn’t meet his gaze. Julian chalked it up to embarrassment at having been out of commission for the whole time they were in planetary orbit. He performed a resonant field scan to be sure he was no longer in danger of losing cohesion and sent him on his way.

With no other immediate duties to perform, he set an alert for anyone entering sickbay to trigger in his quarters and retired to his bunk. Despite his exhaustion, he didn’t sleep, only stared at the ceiling until it was time for another shift to begin, the one that would see them home.

_Garak  
Docking Bay 4 Airlock_

Jake’s message came five days later than he would have liked about contact with Sisko and the imminent arrival of the Defiant. It also might have been nicer were it not at 0300 in the morning. He could annoy Julian about his timing after he was certain everything was all right. For now, he stood outside the airlock with the very sleepy looking teen, Keiko O’Brien with her hair drawn back so tightly in a bun it tugged her brows up into a perpetually surprised arch, and a handful of others who received advanced warning through their own channels. He wasn’t particularly interested in how.

To a one, the humans fell into one another’s arms as loved ones emerged from the airlock and made their way to the unlucky ones left behind to worry. Julian’s hollow smile boded as ill as his raised hand for a proper palm press and his furtive side glance at a tall, angular woman who passed them both by with an unreadable look. “It’s a long story,” the doctor murmured. “Can we go home?”

He made a calculated choice of Julian’s officer quarters, pleased when it seemed to be the right decision by the relaxing of his posture behind the closed door. “Story time can wait,” Garak offered. “You need sleep.”

Julian shook his head. “I can’t sleep, not before we talk. Please.”

“At least get changed.” He intended to change back into pajamas as well, not the same he’d been wearing when awakened in his original quarters. They still lay tangled in his sheets from his haste to undress and change. This way he could coax Julian to where he wanted him to be and hope exhaustion would press the point.

He attained half of what he was after, Julian in bed with him in a warm set of pj’s. The story, as promised, proved long. It was also complicated and draining, and once more he found himself resentful of these incursions into the Gamma Quadrant which always brought Julian back to him hurting and sometimes shattered.

The doctor wound down with a thickly voiced, “I’ll understand if you’re furious with me. I don’t have any excuse for the decisions I made beyond believing they were the right things to do.”

“I’d hope that by now you know me better than that,” he said, pulling him in to rest his cheek on his chest. “I respect your adhesion to your ethics, whether I agree with them or not. Let your mind be at ease on that point if nothing else.”

He felt him melt in against him with a soft, exhausted sigh. It wasn’t long before his breathing evened out and his head and limbs grew heavy against Garak’s support. Despite his own exhaustion, Garak felt no such relief. It was clear from Julian’s account that meeting his descendents had affected him profoundly, perhaps even awakened in him desires he hadn’t been aware of before the experience.

Against the gravity of his losses, what could he hope to provide beyond a temporary sort of comfort? No matter what they felt for one another, they would never be parents to the same biological offspring, never official in the eyes of both of their governments. He thought of the writings he’d managed on Cardassian courtship and shook his head. Foolish. So foolish to bring into such stark relief all of their differences and the ways they could never be to one another anything but illegitimate lovers in the eyes of his people and...what in the eyes of Julian’s? A terrible mistake?

He had come this far not caring what others thought beyond how it might hurt Julian’s career. Would that change if, when, he was able to return home? Could he face his mother and speak of something beyond a fling or scratching of an itch with this human male? His former classmates, assuming any of them yet lived?

He saw something in the way Julian spoke of all of the Bashirs, or Kirby-Bashirs as he had called them, something he was sure Julian didn’t yet see. Closing his eyes, he made one of his few, rare concessions to sentiment. He would neither name nor face it until it was inevitable. He would give him the one gift he had that he felt was of any value: time to come to his own conclusions free of pressure or harsh truths. If that made him weak, then so be it. He’d hold him close for as long as he allowed, and hopefully would have the grace and wherewithal to release him when the time came. It was the only way that he could see that Julian wouldn’t hate him in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> This took so long to write. In part I blame a lingering serious illness that took forever to recover from and work being so busy in the summer, but in part I also feel like it was just the heaviness of the subject matter. This covers events in “Ferengi Love Songs,” and “Children of Time,” skipping over the episode “Soldiers of the Empire,” as it had nothing to do with Julian or Garak beyond a few nice moments between Julian and Martok at the beginning of the episode.


End file.
